A Place Called Home
by tobiz9
Summary: Friday Night Lights tv show not movie fanfic...What would life be like for Tim Riggins if his father came back angry after Tim kicked him out? WARNING: violence, abuse, maybe sex later...NO NOT BETWEEN TIM AND HIS DAD!
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Tim Riggins was sitting at his kitchen table, eating a grilled cheese sandwich and drinking a beer, when someone walked in the front door. Tim didn't turn around and, assuming it was Billy, he said:

"You're back early. Thought you wouldn't be back fro hours." When he heard no reply, he turned around, frowning. "Billy?" Before he could see who it was, he was hit hard by a punch to the jaw. He was completely unprepared for this and cried out in pain, falling to the fall with a crash. It took him a second to recover but when he did, he looked up and gasped as he recognized the man standing above him.

"Dad?" he whispered in disbelief. His father stood over him with a bottle of beer in his hand. Still in shock, Tim scrambled to his feet before his father could get another blow in. "I thought I told you I didn't want you here!" he reminded, angrily.

"You can't kick me out!" Walt Riggins yelled, throwing his bottle at Tim's head with no warning. Tim ducked at the last moment as his father screamed: "This is my house! You can't kick me out of my own house!"

"This is **not **your house!" Tim roared back. "It never **was** your house and it will never **be** your house! Get out!" Walt had enough. He ran at Tim, knocking him over. While Tim was lying on the floor, winded from the fall, his father brought his foot down hard on Tim's chest. Time screamed in pain as he felt his ribs break. He wanted to get up and fight his dad, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was too weak and in too much pain. His dad pulled him to his feet and, holding him by the collar of his shirt, slammed him against a wall and held him there, face to face.

"This **is** my house, boy!" he snarled at Tim. "I **will **live here, whether you like it or not." And with that, he threw Tim onto the floor, kicked him hard in the stomach, then grabbed an ashtray from the table and brought it down hard on the side of Tim's head. Pain shot through Tim's skull and everything went black as he passed out on the cold, hard floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Jason Street was heading home from his quad. rugby game and he was passing by Tim's house. He started going faster on his wheelchair. He didn't want to see Time. He wasn't still mad at him, Tim was his best friend and he couldn't stay mad at him for long, but he just didn't feel like facing him yet.

He was almost past the Riggins' house when he noticed something. The front door of the house was partly open. That was strange. Tim's front door was never open, not even wide open. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. He wheeled himself forward and stopped in front of the door.

"Tim?" He called into the house. When there was no answer, he began to feel uncomfortable. "Billy?" Still nothing. Jason frowned. What was going on?

He pushed the door open and rolled himself in, gasping at when he saw. The room was a mess. There was food and beer and broken glass and bottles all over the floor. The table was turned over and the couch pillows were torn up. Tim was lying still on the side of the room, not moving.

As soon as he saw this, Jason hurried over to the unconscious boy and bent down towards him, scooping Tim's head up in his arms.

"Tim!" he called urgently. A soft moan escaped Tim's lips and his eyed fluttered open, his face drawn with pain. He had a splitting headache. He squinted, trying to focus his eyes on the face of the person above him.

"Jay?" he muttered, confused. What was Street doing here? What happened? Suddenly, everything came back to him and he groaned, bringing a hand to his face.

"I'm here, buddy." Jason assured him, looking Riggins over. There was a bloody, red welt on the side of his head and his lip was cut and bleeding. One hand was clutching his ribs on his left side and he wouldn't take it away. "What happened, man?" Tim looked up at his in silence for a minute, deciding whether he should tell him the truth or not. He'd always been able to tell Street anything, but they hadn't spoken in a while and Tim didn't know how to talk to him anymore. And he didn't think he was about to talk about what happened with **anyone**.

"I don't remember." He lied. He could tell Street didn't believe him, but he didn't ask anymore questions. Instead, he took out his phone and dialed a number.

"Who you callin'?" Tim asked but Jason ignored him.

"Hey, Coach, it's Street." He said. "Listen, I know it's late, but…"

"No, Jay, don't tell Coach! Please!" Tim begged, warningly.

"Riggins is hurt. Can you come to his place?…Thanks Coach, I didn't know who else to call…Thank you, sir. Bye." Jason hung up and looked down at Tim, frowning. Tim had moved and was now leaning against the wall in a sitting position. "Why don't you tell me what really happened, Tim." Jason demanded. Tim gritted his teeth and looked away, trying to come up with a story to tell him, but he couldn't think of anything so he just stayed quiet. Jason sighed and shook his head, disapprovingly. "I thought we could tell each other everything, Tim. I mean, isn't that what best friends are for?" Tim closed his eyes and said, softly:

"It's nothin' important. I'll be fine." Realizing he wouldn't get anything more out of Tim, Jason dropped it, annoyed. And they waited in silence for Coach to arrive.

After about 5 minutes, they saw a car pull into the driveway and they knew Coach Taylor had arrived. He rushed in a minute later, pausing when he saw the state Riggins was in. he walked over slowly, worry in his eyes. He looked over Tim quickly, growing angry, realizing who did this.

"Was it him?" he demanded angrily. "Did he do this to you?" By the uncomfortable silence and the way Tim turned away, closing his eyes, he took it as a yes. "Call an ambulance." He ordered Jason. "We need to get him to a hospital." Tim looked up, fearfully when Coach said this.

"No. No hospitals. Please." Tim begged. "I hate hospitals."

"You need one, son." Coach Taylor insisted. "You're hurt pretty bad. Your ribs are pretty banged up." Tim groaned at this, but didn't argue anymore. There was a long silence between the two as Jason called an ambulance.

"What happened, son?" Coach asked finally. "Why'd he do this to you?" Tim sighed. Jason was still on the phone, so since Coach already knew who did it, Tim decided he could tell him everything without Jason hearing.

"When I found the camera he stole in our house, I confronted him about it." He explained softly so that Jason couldn't hear. "He said he was gonna give it back and a buncha other bullshit. So I kicked him out. And he was pissed. He came back and…" he broke off, motioning all around him. Coach sighed and nodded. "Don't tell anyone, Coach. Please." Tim begged urgently.

"You know I have to report this, son." Coach replied, shaking his head.

"No, you don't." Tim argued. "You don't havta report this."

"Why are you defending him? After what he did to you?"

"He was mad. Lotsa people get outta control when they're mad."

"He hit you! And punched you and kicked you! He broke your ribs! I don't even know what else he did to you. Why-"

"He's my father!" Tim interrupted, loudly, forgetting Jason was there for a minute. He looked over at him. He was still on the phone and it didn't seem like he heard anything. Letting out a sigh of relief, Tim continued softly. "He's my father. And he's a good dad, when he's not…when he's not drunk. I like my life much more when he's in it. And I'm willing to give him more chances if he **stays** in it." Coach shook his head, disapprovingly, but didn't say anymore. "Please don't tell anyone Coach. Give him another chance." After a long pause, Coach said:

"I won't tell anyone this time, but if it happens again, you can count on it that I will." Tim nodded understandingly and didn't argue anymore, just stayed quiet.

-----

Jason heard the whole conversation. He just pretended he was on the phone so that he could listen more. He called the ambulance already and it was on its way. It would be here soon. Jason had wondered who Coach was talking about when he asked Tim if **he **did that to him. So he eavesdropped on their conversation.

He kind of wished he hadn't now.

So Tim's dad was back. What the hell? Had he and Tim not spoken for so long that the Riggins father came back, left then came back again? The two boys definitely had a lot to catch up on.

Jason rolled himself back over to the two men on the floor.

"The ambulance should be here any minute." He announced.

"Thank you, son." Coach said, standing up, and held his hand out to Jason. Jason smiled slightly and shook it. The Coach Taylor let go and went to help Tim up. He pulled Tim's arm over his shoulder and lifted the boy to his feet, making Tim cry out as his hand flew to his ribs. Coach led him to what was left of the couch and lay him down gently. Jason wheeled himself over to the other boy so that he was sitting in his chair next to where Tim was lying.

"Listen, man, we need to talk." He said and Tim nodded.

"I know." He agreed softly. "I suppose we have a lot to catch up on. Friends?"

"Yeah. Always." Jason promised, smiling. "Nothing can change that. Texas forever, man." Tim grinned, nodding.

"Texas forever." He replied and at that moment, the ambulance arrived and the doctors carried Riggins off on a stretcher.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A couple hours later, Tim was lying in a hospital bed downtown. The doctors said he would be fine. He had a few broken ribs which got bandaged up but that's it.

He'd had a few visitors already. A few guys from the team, including Saracen and even Smash came to tell him to get better soon, hopefully by the game on Friday. The doctors said he shouldn't play on Friday, that his ribs wouldn't be healed by then, but he was planning to play anyway.

Some rally girls also came with flowers and balloons that said "Get well soon". Tyra even showed up and, of course, tried to talk him out of playing on Friday but it was no use. She left after giving him a quick kiss, leaving Tim thinking that maybe they would get back together.

Billy came by for a few minutes to wish him better soon but didn't stay for long, leaving quickly to get back to his party.

Jason and Coach Taylor stayed with him the whole time. Tim and Coach came up with a pretty ridiculous story about three men he didn't recognize attacking him, but everyone seemed to believe it. That's what they told everyone at least.

After everyone left, it was just Tim, Jason and Coach again. They started talking about the old days when Jason was still the quarterback and Matt was still in third-string. They wondered if they would've gotten this far if they still had Jason.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and a nurse came in.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but your father is here to see you." She told Tim, then just stood there, waiting for Tim's response. Tim didn't know what to do. His dad was the reason he was in the hospital, and he was the last person he wanted to see at the moment, but he didn't want to make a scene, especially in front of Jason. He looked over at Coach, hoping to get some answers from him, but Coach's face was blank.

"Send him in." Tim said at last and the nurse nodded and left the room. Tim looked at Coach again. He looked angry as Tim's father came in. Tim gave him a look that obviously said "cool it" then turned to his dad.

"What happened, son?" his father gasped, seeing Tim. "I came as soon as I heard. Are you OK?" Tim hesitated then nodded. He was surprised at how well his dad pretended he didn't know what happened. If he didn't know better, he would've believed him. But he knew otherwise.

"I'm fine." He assured his father softly. "Just a couple broken ribs."

"Oh my…Well I hope that it won't ruin his football career. Will he be able to play Friday night?" Walt asked, turning to Coach.

"Well I sure hope so." Coach replied, trying to sound as friendly as possible, but he was barely able to keep the anger out of his voice. Tim's dad frowned, realizing Coach had a problem with him.

"Oh…well so do I." he agreed quietly, looking from Jason to Coach to Tim. "Well…feel better, son." He said to his son. He looked at Jason, smiling. "It was good to see you again, Jason." Jason smiled back politely and Walt turned to Coach, holding out his hand. "Coach." Coach Taylor gritted his teeth and took Walt's hand.

"Walt." He grunted and glared after Walt as he left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

A month later, Tim was fully healed and had played in the game Friday night. They won. His father hadn't even touched him since that night. It seemed like Coach really scared him out of it or something. Tyra and Tim had gotten back together and he and Jason were best friends again. It went back to how it was before Jason got hurt. And Tim had a feeling Jason somehow knew about what his dad did to him, although Jason never said anything about it.

Tim was in the garage now, getting paint in order to paint the living room. To paint was kept on the top shelf in the garage and Tim had to use a ladder to get up there. Once he found the color he needed, he started to come down, but suddenly the ladder tipped over and he fell, spilling the paint all over the floor and all over his father's new car.

"What the hell happened?!" his father roared, hearing the crash. He came to stand in the garage door, holding a bottle of beer with a cigar in his mouth. "What the hell did you do, boy?!" he demanded, dropping the bottle when he saw Tim on the floor and the paint splattered all over the room. Tim stood up when he realized his father had been drinking. Tim knew his father wasn't a pleasant guy when he drank.

"I'm sorry. I'll clean it up." He said quickly and started to bend down and pick up the turned over paint bucket.

"Oh no, you don't!" Walt snapped and jumped on his son, pinning him to the wall. "You don't get off that easy, boy!" he had his arm over Tim's throat so that Tim couldn't get away. He tried throwing his dad off but he was too strong. Tim's father laughed and took a long drag from his cigar. Then Tim saw an idea flash in his father's eyes and he knew it wouldn't be good for him. He started struggling harder, but Walt didn't let go. He took the cigar out of his mouth and, grabbing Tim's arm, he pushed the hot end into Tim's skin. Tim cried out in pain as he felt his skin burning. His father kept the cigar pressed to his skin for a few seconds then took it away and pushed Tim to the floor. Tim sat there, clutching his arm in pain and glaring at his father. His father looked down at him in disgust and kicked the bucket at him.

"Clean this mess up." He growled and stomped out of the garage. "And then we'll talk."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The next day, Tim was about to go back home from practice when Coach stopped him, coming up from behind him.

"Riggins, hold on." Coach ordered and Tim stopped.

"Yes, Coach?" he muttered, turning around. Coach eyes him worryingly. Tim looked terrible. He had dark bags under his eyes and looked like he hadn't slept in weeks and it was beginning to show. He wasn't playing as well as he used to, and he could barely stand up straight. He looked like he would collapse from sheer exhaustion any minute now.

"How've you been doing, Riggins?" Coach asked finally. Tim shrugged.

"Fine." He replied softly, looking away. He could tell Coach didn't believe him, but he didn't ask anymore questions, so Tim nodded, said: "See you tomorrow, Coach" and started walking away.

"Riggins, wait!" Coach said, grabbing Tim's arm. Tim cried out in pain and pulled his arm away when Coach grabbed his burn. He immediately regretted it, knowing Coach wouldn't leave him alone now. "What's wrong?" Coach questioned, eyeing Tim's arm in worry.

"Nothin'." Tim lied, quickly. Coach glared at him, grabbed his wrist and pulled up his sleeve, gasping when he saw the burn.

"What happened, Riggins?" Coach demanded, staring at the burn. Tim stayed quiet and turned his head away, closing his eyes. "Tim! Did he do this to you?" Tim sighed, opening his eyes, and nodded.

"Yeah." He whispered, hanging his head.

"Did he do anything else?"

"No." Tim replied immediately, a little too quickly.

"Tim, tell me the truth." Coach ordered. Tim hesitated then nodded.

"Yeah…he…uh…he kicked me in the stomach…a few times."

"Come with me." Coach said, holding Tim's arm and leading his to a storage closet. He closed the door behind them. "Show me."

"What?!" Tim demanded in disbelief.

"Show me." Coach repeated. Tim gritted his teeth and pulled off his shirt, uncomfortably, revealing his black and blue bruised chest and stomach. Coach gasped when he saw the bruises and ran a hand over them, making Tim flinch.

"Is there anything else?" Coach pressed, carefully, taking his hand away. By Tim's pause, he knew there was something else. He nodded, a tear running down his cheek. He took a deep breath and turned around, showing Coach his back. There were long, red slashes on his back, as if he'd been whipped.

-----

_After Tim cleaned up the paint, his father dragged him down to the basement, pulling him by his hair. Tim's arm still stung from the burn and he was holding it close to his chest as if to protect it from his father._

_Walt threw Tim onto the floor and ripped his shirt off, pushing Tim down so that he was on his hands and knees. He pulled his belt out from his pants and flung it out, so that it made a cracking sound when it hit the floor._

"_You will learn to behave, boy!" he roared and lashed out with the belt, hitting Tim hard on the back. Tim flinched and felt tears forming in his eyes. The belt stung and burned his back like hell. "I'm sick and tired of you fuckin' up every single little thing!" CRACK. "Did you see my car?! You fuckin' got paint all over it!" CRACK. "You little shit! You will NEVER screw up again! You understand me?!"_

"_Yes." Tim whispered, feeling a single tear slide down his cheek. CRACK._

"_Yes, what?!"_

"_Yes, sir." Tim corrected quietly._

"_I can't hear you, boy!" CRACK CRACK._

"_Yes, sir!" Tim growled, louder. CRACK._

_----- _

Coach Taylor stared at the slashes in fear, tracing the worst one with his hand.

"Is this from a whip?" he asked softly. Tim shook his head.

"A belt." He replied. Coach growled and took his hand away.

"That's it." He snarled angrily, and Tim turned to him, frowning, pulling his shirt back on. "I won't let him do this to you anymore. I'm reporting this."

"No, Coach. Please don't." Tim begged. "Give him one more chance. Please."

"Why are you allowing this, son?" Coach demanded, confused. "He's hurting you! Why are you just accepting this like it's normal? Like that's just the way it is? Like you deserve it? Why won't you fight it?"

"He's my dad." Tim replied, simply. "And he's a good dad…in most ways. I'd rather have him around, like this, than not at all."

"He hurts you!" Coach growled, motioning to the burn on Tim's arm.

"So he's not perfect." Tim admitted softly. "We all have our faults. I guess this one's his. Give him one more chance. Please, Coach."

"You're pushing it. Before I told you if it happens again, I will report it. You agreed to that. I won't report it this time, because you asked me to. But next time-"

"There won't be a next time."

"I hope not. But if there is, then I **will** report it. I promise you that."

"Fine, but there won't be a next time." Tim assured Coach, then left the room.

-----

"Hey, dad." Tim muttered when he came home. His dad was lying on the couch, watching TV, drinking a bottle of beer, with a cigar in his mouth. Tim shuddered at the memory of the burning hot cigar on his skin, and vowed he wouldn't do anything to make his father repeat it.

"I want you to quit the football team." His father said calmly, taking a sip of his beer, then putting the cigar back in his mouth, all the while keeping his eyes focused on the TV, which was showing a baseball game.

"What?" Tim gasped in disbelief. "Why?"

"Don't question me, boy." His father snapped, still not looking at Tim.

"Dad, football's all I got! It's the only thing I'm good at!" Tim argued, angrily. "You can't take that away from me!"

"Yes I can, and I just did!" Walt grunted, finally glancing over at Tim.

"Well, I refuse." Tim replied, softly. "You can't stop me." And with that, he started walking towards his room, swinging his sports bag over his shoulder.

"I can stop you." His father hissed and grabbed Tim from behind, pushing him against the wall. "You're not allowed to play football!"

"Why not?" Tim growled, trying to push Walt off him but with no luck.

"Because football's a ridiculous sport that only promotes violence and I won't condone that kind of behavior! That's why!" Walt bellowed, punched Tim hard in the stomach. Tim grunted with pain, then he laughed.

"Oh, yeah? Look who's talkin'! You won't "condone violent behavior"! That's bullshit! Look at you!" This only earned him another punch in the stomach and a hard blow to the jaw. Then Tim fought back and pushed his father off of him, punching him in the face. He was about to punch him again, when his father pulled a knife out of his pocket and pushed it into Tim's side.

Tim gasped in pain as he felt the knife pierce the soft skin above him right hip. He felt it sink further and further into his body until it wouldn't go in anymore and he felt like he would pass out from the pain. He wished he would so that the pain would end, but he didn't.

Walt dragged him to the door of the basement, opened it and threw Tim down the stairs. Tim crashed to the floor as he heard the door close and lock behind him. He was in so much pain, his whole body was aching. He grabbed the handle of the knife and tried to pull it out, but it hurt too much and it almost made him throw up, before collapsing on the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Two days later, Coach Taylor was getting worried. Tim hadn't shown up for practice two days in a row and he hadn't come to school. Everyone else assumed he was just sick, but Coach doubted it. Tim seemed fine after practice the other day and Coach had a feeling Tim's dad did something to the boy.

He went over to the Riggins' house after practice that day and knocked on the door. After a minute, Billy answered it, smiling when he saw who it was.

"Hey, Coach." He greeted warmly.

"Hi, Billy, how you doing? Is Tim here?"

"Uh, no. I thought he would still be at practice." Billy muttered, frowning. Coach shook his head, surprised.

"No, he hasn't come to school for the past two days. Wouldn't you know about that?" This time, Billy shook his head.

"I haven't been around much the past two weeks…I just got back. I was in Austin. Anyway, I'm sure Tim's fine. My father's back, you know, so he wouldn't take care of Tim…"

"I'm not so sure about that." Coach interrupted, calmly. "Is your father here now?" Billy shook his head. "Ok, so, can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course." Billy replied, holding the door open for Coach and closing it after he entered. "What's going on?" he looked worried.

"Well…you may want to sit down." Coach warned but Billy stayed standing so Coach continued: "Your father has been…well, he's been hurting Tim. It started about a month ago, after Tim kicked him out. He came back and beat Tim up pretty bad, landing him in the hospital with a couple broken ribs. Tim told me not to report it, so I didn't. And it seemed like it had stopped for a while, but then a couple days ago I saw a burn on Tim's arm and he told me his father burned his with his cigar for spilling paint in the garage. He also whipped him with a belt and kicked him in the stomach so hard and so many times is left bruises. Once again, he asked me not to report it so I didn't, but I told him that if it happens again, I would. And…now he's been missing for two days. I think something happened to him." By the time he finished, Billy was staring at him with fear in his eyes.

"Tim?" he called, loudly, heading towards Tim's room, with Coach right behind him. The room was empty. "He might be locked in the basement. I remember when we were young and we did something wrong, our dad would lock us in the basement for awhile. Maybe he locked Tim in there." So they headed to the basement door and found it locked. Billy quickly unlocked it and, taking a deep breath, he and Coach rushed down the stairs into the basement.

Tim was lying crumpled on the floor, a knife sticking out of his side and a pool of blood around him. His clothes and hands were covered in blood and his skin was drenched with sweat.

Billy and Coach stood there, shocked and horrified by what they saw. Then, slowly, snapping out of his shock, Coach went and bent down over Tim, pulling his limp body into his arms.

"Tim." He called his name, shaking the boy gently. No response.

"Oh my God." Billy hissed, his head in his hands. "Is he…?" he broke off, unable to say the last dreaded word. Coach felt Tim's pulse and let out a sigh of relief, shaking his head.

"He's alive! Barely. Call an ambulance!" he ordered and Billy immediately ran upstairs to get a phone and make the call. "Tim!" Coach repeated, louder this time and shook Tim harder. A soft moan escaped Tim's lips but his eyes still didn't open. "Tim!" Now, his eyes fluttered and then opened, his brown eyes full of pain.

"Coach…" he stuttered, starting to breathe heavily. "I…"

"Shh, don't talk. It's OK." Coach soothed, pulling Tim closer to him. "I'm just going to take the knife out, OK?" Tim nodded, weakly and closed his eyes, as if to block out the pain.

Coach grasped the handle and started pulling as gently as he could. Tim groaned and gritted his teeth against the pain, but he didn't fight Coach. When Coach finally pulled out the knife all the way out, Tim let out a breath of relief and opened his eyes. He was shaking all over. Coach pulled him close, comfortingly.

"It's OK. You'll be fine." He assured the boy. "Everything will be OK."

"Coach…" Tim uttered, his voice barely a whisper. "Coach…I…I j-just wa-want to say…" he broke off, too weak to finish his sentence.

"It's OK. You can tell me later. Don't talk now. Save your strength." Coach said gently, then: "Billy!" he yelled up the stairs. "Get down here!" Then to Tim: "We're gonna take you upstairs now, OK, Tim?" Tim nodded again as Billy came down the stairs. He smiled slightly when Billy came over and squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

"You'll be OK, little brother." He said softly. "Now let's get you to a hospital."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Two hours later, Coach and Billy were in the waiting room in the hospital. The doctors were still working on Tim and they weren't sure if he was going to be OK. They said he lost a lot of blood and there was severe internal bleeding and they didn't know yet if they could contain it. They said they were doing the best they could, but they didn't know if that was enough.

They'd been there two hours already and still no good news. Coach had called up Jason, who called up Matt, who called up Landry, who called up Tyra, who called up Smash. All five of them were now sitting in the waiting room with Coach and Billy, including Lyla and Julie. There was still no sign of Tim's dad and they highly doubted he would show.

Coach and Billy had filled everyone in about what happened, and told them the whole story, the whole truth. Everyone was shocked when they heard the news. Even though Jason already knew, it still scared him to hear it. He could tell it scared everyone else as well. Lyla and Smash were on one side of the room, praying for Tim to get better, and eventually Jason went to join them and soon Coach followed and in no time, everyone was praying.

_Please, God, please let Riggins survive. _Smash begged silently, his eyes closed and his head bowed. _State is in two weeks and we need him to be better by then. Please, God, we need him in order to win._

_Please, God, hear this prayer. _Tyra began, unsure of what to say in her prayer, as she'd never really prayed like this before. _I know I haven't been very good with going to church and all that, but I need you, God. I need you now more than ever. Please, please, help Tim. I know he's not perfect, but really, who is? And I need him, God, I need him. I realize now that I love him and I need him in my life. It's strange how the only way to make me realize how much I care about him is now, when it may be too late. I just pray to You, God, I pray that it isn't too late, and that I will be able to tell him how I feel. Please, God, please don't let him die._

_God, it's been awhile. _Jason said to God in his head. _A really long while actually, since before my accident wasn't it? I'm sorry I haven't been…updating with you as much as I used to, but I still believe, even if it may have not shown for the last couple of months. And I need your help. Please, God, help Tim. He's not a bad guy, he really isn't, not nearly as bad as everyone thinks. He doesn't deserve this. He's a good guy, a true friend, no matter what. And you're probably thinking, what about that thing with Lyla? Well, he made a mistake, and I understand that now. I need to get a chance to tell him I forgive him. Please, God, give me that chance._

_Listen, God, Tim Riggins isn't a bad guy. Not at all. He's a good man underneath, and he doesn't deserve this. _Coach pleaded, his eyes shut tight, concentrating. _He's gone through hell this past month. I don't think I can even begin to imagine what he's been going through, but I know that it's not right, it's not fair. Tim's father is abusive to him and that's not right, he doesn't deserve it. And, God, why did you allow it? I know you probably have your reasons, but please, God, it's enough. He's gone through too much. Please, God, make him better._

Half an hour later, a doctor walked over, looking grim and unhappy.

"Oh my God." Tyra hissed, putting a hand to her mouth, a tear trickling down her cheek. Tim was dead. The doctor's face gave everything away. "He's dead." She sobbed as Coach went to talk to the doctor. Tyra was crying so much that Julie, and even Lyla went and hugged her, comfortingly. Jason had his head in his hands, trying to hear what the two older men were saying, but they were too far away, obviously not wanting the younger people to hear what they were saying. _Tyra was right,_ Jason thought, sadly. Tim was dead.

After a minute of talking to the doctor, Coach came back.

"Tim's alive." He announced, sighing. Tyra stopped crying and raised her head, the hope coming back into her eyes. Jason looked at Coach, frowning. If Tim was alive, why didn't Coach look happy? "He's alive…Coach continued, softly. "For now." Tyra stared at Coach in fear, and Jason lowered his head, he knew there was a catch. "They say they've stopped the bleeding, but he's lost a lot of blood, and…they're not sure if he'll survive the night."

"Can we see him?" Jason asked, almost pleadingly.

"Well, he's asleep right now." The doctor explained calmly. "He should wake up in about half an hour, you can see him then. But he will be a little groggy because of the drugs he gave him.

"Can we just go sit with him, then?" Tyra pressed, the tears coming back into her eyes. The doctor hesitated, looking at the girl sadly, then nodded.

"Yes, I suppose so, but I'm afraid visiting hours are over. But considering what's happened, I'll let you stay, but not all of you, only three." Everyone immediately knew which three would stay. Jason, Tyra, Coach. Lyla went to Jason and kissed him quickly, before leaving.

"I'll see you at home, dad." Julie said to Coach, then she and Matt left, holding hands. Smash went over to Jason and said:

"Tell Riggins I say hi. And tell him he better get better before by State or I will kill him." Jason chuckled despite himself and nodded to Smash, who then left the building. And last, Landry hugged Tyra comfortingly and whispered in her ear:

"He's going to be OK. I just know it. Tim Riggins is a fighter. He'll get through this. I promise." Tyra smiled slightly, trying to hold back her tears but she couldn't and she started sobbing, burying her face into Landry's shoulder. "It's OK. He's going to be fine." Landry soothed and Tyra looked up and nodded, giving Landry and quick kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, Landry. You're a good friend." So then, Landry also left, leaving behind Coach, Jason, Tyra, Billy and the doctor.

"I think I'll go look for my dad." Billy announced. "I hate hospitals anyway." Coach nodded and Billy walked away, disappearing round a corner.

"Coach, can I talk to you for a minute?" Doc asked and Coach nodded.

"Yeah, sure, Doc. What's up?" he asked, coming over.

"Listen, I don't know what exactly happened with this boy, but, um, we've seen signs of abuse. It seems like this boy has been physically abused for some time now. I was wondering if you know who did this to him?" Coach hesitated, then shook his head, saying:

"I first have to talk to him before I say anything, alright, Doc? I **will** tell you, but not until I talk to him." Doc nodded understandingly, before leading the three to the room Tim was in.


End file.
